Storm brings adventure to dad and son

September 04, 2011|First Time Dad | Mark St. John Erickson

Our little boy got an unexpected gift in place of the party we'd planned for his 3rd birthday.

Instead of gathering with his family and friends at Bluebird Gap Farm, Owen was hunkered down in our house near the old Hampton waterfront, watching with us as Hurricane Irene tore at the giant pecan tree in our back neighbor's yard — and wondering if the tide pushing up across the street was strong enough to reach us.

That certainly wasn't the way we'd planned it the week before. And when Miriam canceled the party Thursday morning, we wondered how he'd respond.

But long before the first limbs fell and the lights went out, Owen had embraced his first big storm as both a test and an adventure.

As a Navy kid growing up in hurricane-prone Puerto Rico, Okinawa and Taiwan — plus Yorktown and Virginia Beach — I was just his age when I had my own first brush with a dangerous storm. And because my dad was the one battening down the bases where he worked, I learned early on that it was my job to help my mom prepare, then find ways to keep the house dry, my little sisters safe and the fish tanks aerated if the windows broke or the power failed.

Growing up on the Caribbean rim of Colombia, Owen's mom had her own hurricane training. Among her most memorable assignments during her reporting days was covering a storm on the Outer Banks. But both of us were still surprised to see Owen show such interest when we started boarding up the house — me with my screw gun and him with his little toy hammer and saw — and all of us smiling as he climbed up a step ladder, starting banging away and proclaimed, "I help!"

He also joined in as we secured our old wooden boat, then helped us take our cars and truck to the safety of a downtown parking garage. He even stooped down beside me as I washed out the tub and filled it with water, nodding knowingly as I said, "We have to be ready for the storm."

That night he lined our flashlights up on the counter, saying, "One for you, Daddy. One for you, Mommy. And one for Owen." So it was no surprise — when I lay down with him at bedtime to describe what the grumbling wind outside his window might mean — that he already knew.

"Yes," he said. "The storm is coming."

By breakfast the next morning, the wind was already rumbling through the trees and shaking our metal porch roof. Miriam rose early to can some figs — and the ripe fruit had just thickened into a rich jam when the power failed.

"The storm took my iPad!" Owen cried, frowning as the screen went blank. But despite the loss of all his electrically powered comforts — and the dreary light inside the house — our little kid proved to be a trooper.

Trailing behind me from room to room, he used his flashlight to help look for leaks, then gazed beside me as I peered out a side window at the rising water. He watched with me from our protected back porch as the trees shook in the wind and the electric lines started falling.

At 5 p.m. we made a reconnaissance jaunt, donning boots and raincoats during a lull to assess the wind damage and the steadily advancing tide.

"Uh, oh!" he said, when he saw an errant dock bobbing in the back yard across the street. But when a gust of wind blew his hood off and drove his little body back, he simply leaned in, then walked over to his worried mom as if nothing had happened.

"The storm is going away," he said later, and he proved to be right. The tide stopped and the wind failed to pick up as predicted.

Just as exciting were the trucks of utility workers and tree crews that arrived in our neighborhood late the next morning. "I want to see that!" Owen said, as the whine of the chain saws began and the giant booms started rising.

But best of all was when the power returned and revived his beloved Internet companion.